beautiful women are not women
with flat stomachs
beautiful women are not women
with perfectly perfect white teeth
beautiful women are not women
with airbrush skin
beautiful women are not women
who's hair is not even their own

beautiful women are beautiful
because of their pudgy tummies
beautiful women are beautiful
because of their crooked teeth
beautiful women are beautiful
because of their moles, scars, and freckles
beautiful women are beautiful
because of their hair that explodes in rain
and cannot be tamed with a hair brush



beautiful women.


there are so many in the world.

Well I met you at the drugstore
You were staring between the shelves
Wondering if any of the pills
Matched any of the pain you felt in your heart.
You said hey here’s a few quarters,
I found them on the ground,
Don’t you worry about repaying me,
I don’t need them anyhow.
And I said I’ll use them well.
That secret that you hold,
You don’t want to let go.
It tears you apart,
And darkens your soul.
But you know that you need to
Keep it locked, tucked away.
Then the rain started pouring,
We were stranded in the store.
I was holding both my bags,
Searching for ways into your arms.
You said I could stand here forever,
Being here with you like this.
There was a strong gust of wind,
And we started to kiss.
And I said I’ll use them well.
There's a quiet that we know,
We don’t want to let go.
I’m in love with your body,
I’m in love with your smell.
What’s that there on the ground girl,
Is it more than just loose change?
And I said I’ll use them well.

not what you think but a little smaller.
you forgot to paint your t-shirt
with any colors.
it's something to marvel at in the day
and to dread in the night,
and fill with the lush scent
of your iron perfume, like manufactured lilacs.

you dance for something temporary
and lift yourself from dreamlessness
to be touched by a crude ex-lover
because he slipped thirty-five dollars
beneath your door.
and you don't know what to do,
so you try only to love him again
and learn to accept his dry humor.

but coffee is to dark,
and juice is too light
and your relationship is too formal
and his touch is too soft
and your moans are too loud
and your *** is too slow
and your eyes are too dry
and your lips hurt
and your toes cramp
and you think about your mother
and you forget to breathe.

On black sheets
And silver pillows
I pledged a kind
Of oath to you
My love, my love?
Keeper of my coffee cup
Affections and
Bumblebee hive
Passions musings.

Sing to me love and light in a song
And I'll promise that only for you I'll long.

With tshirt lamp
And crystal glass
Kosher wines that
Taste of ash and
Dust in summer campfire
We made ourselves
Like remote batteries
And tuning slides
Together. A: 440

Sing to me of devotion and commitment with your voice.
And I could finally make a similar choice.

Promises made, promises kept.
I promised again even as you slept.

One hand over my hungover temple
as I stumble and crash over pizza boxes and dried klenexes
Im a perverted soul
with a taste of *** and cheap ***** on my mustache
I roll another cig with my dry tounge
and push aside the ugly women I managed to take home last night
she smells as horrible as the rotten milk in the fridge
and It's so funny how my life has come
from being a high person in society
to a peice of **** stuck on the bottom of a loose cannon and a cheap date
whos only real true love in life is watching other people be happy
and making little writings on poetry sites
hopefully one day someone will come across my writings
and **** themselves

Lady, your room is lousy with flowers.
When you kick me out, that's what I'll remember,
Me, sitting here bored as a loepard
In your jungle of wine-bottle lamps,
Velvet pillows the color of blood pudding
And the white china flying fish from Italy.
I forget you, hearing the cut flowers
Sipping their liquids from assorted pots,
Pitchers and Coronation goblets
Like Monday drunkards. The milky berries
Bow down, a local constellation,
Toward their admirers in the tabletop:
Mobs of eyeballs looking up.
Are those petals of leaves you've paried with them ---
Those green-striped ovals of silver tissue?
The red geraniums I know.
Friends, friends. They stink of armpits
And the invovled maladies of autumn,
Musky as a lovebed the morning after.
My nostrils prickle with nostalgia.
Henna hags:cloth of your cloth.
They tow old water thick as fog.

The roses in the Toby jug
Gave up the ghost last night. High time.
Their yellow corsets were ready to split.
You snored, and I heard the petals unlatch,
Tapping and ticking like nervous fingers.
You should have junked them before they died.
Daybreak discovered the bureau lid
Littered with Chinese hands. Now I'm stared at
By chrysanthemums the size
Of Holofernes' head, dipped in the same
Magenta as this fubsy sofa.
In the mirror their doubles back them up.
Listen: your tenant mice
Are rattling the ******* packets. Fine flour
Muffles their bird feet: they whistle for joy.
And you doze on, nose to the wall.
This mizzle fits me like a sad jacket.
How did we make it up to your attic?
You handed me gin in a glass bud vase.
We slept like stones. Lady, what am I doing
With a lung full of dust and a tongue of wood,
Knee-deep in the cold swamped by flowers?

The air is thick, my thoughts like putty.
                             Can't sort through the tangle of displaced dreams.
                           These lingering flies of memories long past continue to patronize me.
                             My mind is the fuzz of the television screen, the crowded room, the vibrating drums.
                                   Every ounce of my energy is wasted on the pestilence that rakes my eyes.
                                Each moment I come to the realization that time is an illusion, I feel the piercing gaze of Medusa in my heart.
        It skips the torture of ripping at my flesh and instead proceeds to lick the numbness right through the fibers of my skin.
         There's this funny little feline that uses me as her ball of yarn that, quite honestly, I've grown tired of.
  I don't know what it is to be confident in what I believe in at this point,
       because it is a foreign term, one determined to strangle me to the point of wintry solitude.

The news is just in, and this is really very big
So sit back and relax as we broadcast our biggest gig

This is what we love to call, ‘Breaking News’
Some self-created, some ahead of time; and full of juice

It’s our absolute pleasure to deliver the news first to you
Kindly note that it’s only on our channel you get this news to view

There is no way others can compete or show you what we will right now
Only we took all the risk, spent thousands, to ensure we get all the connections to meow

Yes this is a big day for all of us here, as we are going to broadcast this live
We here are ecstatic as we bring you this absolutely scandalous piece of jive

So here we go, let’s go and ask our reporter, who has been on this case like a fly on sweet
Hey you what, when and how did this happen and what’s the new tweet?

Hello you, hello I can’t hear you, describe a little loudly all the between the lines and of the unspoken
Oh ****! just when she was about to reveal, anyways we will soon get back to her, I think the line is broken

Let’s now shift to our second best and mind you this is also breaking news
Where no one spoke out clearly and it’s full of interesting clues

And our third and fourth and rest including the weather report everything is breaking
And wait till you see the ad break, the daily commercials on our channel look so refreshing.

I don't want to be a speck in this ocean of humanity.
I don't want my words to be so small and obscure that even the keenest ear, still, cannot hear.
I don't want to be tossed and kicked and shoved about, like the speck I fear I am.
The speck that floats & sweeps and glides & sighs - the speck that will never be examined.

I breathe.
I live.
I mean.
I am.

I don't want to be invisible.

---

The world is one big bustle after another - people pushing and shoving, only to sleep and repeat?

I am the one you bumped into, in a race to catch the nooner to downtown Detroit.
I am the girl you stumbled past, in your rush to catch another cab.

I am the flower ******* McKenzie who sold you more marigolds.
The waitress at PJ's who asked, "More cream?"
The cashier at Aldi's who bagged your Arizona.

I am that ticket taker at Cinemark who gave you your stub and genuinely hoped you would enjoy your movie.

I am the girl you're seated by, right now.
This instant.

So close, you can hear her soft breaths;
So close, you can nearly smell her perfume;
So close, and still...
You stand.

You gather your things, get off the train, and run off to catch another, what?
Bus? Plane? Cab?

You're gone.
And, I'm here.
And, I'm still the girl;

The girl who might have been your soulmate.
But, you traded me for 15 minutes of silence and a bed you'd sleep in alone.

---

I don't want to be a speck in this ocean that is your world.
I want to be a boulder.

I want to mean something,
And be something,
And exist to you.

So, STOP.
I'm here.


"Hello."